Stop it, Maine.

One of the things I love about Rhode Island is its close proximity to Maine, where I had the pleasure of spending most of this past weekend. I love Maine. It's beautiful. I don't care too much for seafood, but I do love blueberries and maple syrup, and if I could manage to outfit my home and myself in nothing but LL Bean, I'd do it. But dangit if Maine doesn't have the crankiest people in the world living in it. They make me seem cheerful by comparison. And I love them.

To Mainers, you are either from Maine, or from "away," which includes all geographical points not in Maine. Maine is a state that relies heavily on tourism dollars, and they want you to come and spend them, but then they want you to get the hell out. In fact, there are more than a few Mainers who want to be able to tell you to get the hell out of their country, not just their state. That's right: there are Maine secessionists! Some want to join Canada, some want to be their own country outright, and some just want to split off from the rest of Maine.

I find that a lot of people have kind of a skewed picture of Maine, that's it's all Boothbay Harbor and Freeport. Not true. It has more snowmobilers and hunters than Martha Stewarts for sure. The town I spent my weekend in, Ogunquit, is pretty far on the hoity-toity end of the spectrum, but it still has the fine get-lost spirit of the rest of the state. Even the beautiful, seasonal displays, all awash in mums and squash and whimsical Halloween imagery have it:

In case it's too small, it says "Yes, they are real, do not touch." (Insert your own stupid joke here.)

I think my favorite sight in all of Ogunquit has to be this wall, though. It's the perfect metaphor for Maine. Beautiful, rugged, picturesque... but don't get comfortable.

Don't tread sit on me.

That Alec Baldwin. He's all right.

Was that so hard?

See? I knew things were going to start looking up for Central Falls. Today the Providence Journal reported that Alec Baldwin is tossing the Central Falls library $10,000 from his charitable foundation. Ever one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I initially thought this was chump change, it's actually a pretty sizable gift, given how Mr. Baldwin chooses to give his money away. His foundation is a pass-through; that is,  instead of having a big, big wad of money and only giving away what the government requires every year, like a lot of wealthy people do, he gives away practically everything he puts in it. And he gives it to a ton of different charities, instead of just one or two, which, again, a lot of rich people do. (Sorry for the philanthropy lesson. This is what I do for a living.) So... yay! Yay for Central Falls.

Apparently Jack Donaghy was moved to make the donation after reading this article in last Saturday's New York Times, which talked about a $100-a-head fundraiser for the library the night before. Depressingly, a library board member admitted that not many actual Central Falls residents were able to foot that kind of bill, but today's ProJo said the shindig managed to raise $15K.  But back to depressing: the ProJo thought it necessary to describe what the Hamptons are, since Baldwin is on the board of a library out there: "a popular beach resort on Long Island that caters to the rich and famous."  For heaven's sake. First of all, that's wrong. Second, does anyone out there really not know what the Hamptons are? Anybody?

So! Now all we need is for about a thousand more Alec Baldwins to send checks for ten grand, and Central Falls will be set. In the meantime, to show my appreciation, I'm going to rent Outside Providence. And watch it!

So are we Ogdenville or are we North Haverbrook?

I'd say we have more of a Brockway flavor.

Postscript on the whole Get Motivated! “traffic tsunami:” it never happened. Apparently only two-thirds of the expected 12,000 attendees showed up, and those 8,000 took the city’s advice to come early, carpool, or take the bus, because traffic was not only not heavy during yesterday’s rush hour, it was somehow lighter than usual. And Providence tried so hard! School was delayed, there were troopers all over the highway, and cops on every corner downtown to handle the influx of cars that never happened. So why did the city think 12,000 people were going to come to this thing? Because Get Motivated! told them so!

To add insult to injury, it seems that this Get Motivated! is even more of a scam than it looks to be on its smarmy face. It’s basically a day-long infomercial for some investment software, punctuated by bigshots telling you how to live your life. Tickets are $2 in advance, and when you give them your credit card number online, you’re also subscribing to said software for much, much more than $2, unless you opt out in writing by the Saturday before the conference. (If you show up at the door and want in, your ticket costs over $200.) Plus, you’re subjected to the decidedly non-comedic stylings of one Bill Cosby, who seems to have lost his damn mind:

Cosby wore a gray sweat suit with the words “Hello Friend” on his chest.

The Lord helps those who help themselves, Cosby said, but too many people forget the last three words.

“I’m not here to sell you God, I’m just here to tell you some good sense,” he said.

He told a story about Jesus meeting a supplicant who wants his high blood pressure cured.

“Don’t eat salt,” Jesus tells him.

The supplicant expected more — a healing touch, perhaps — and says he’s disappointed.

“Wait till you meet my father,” Jesus replies.

The moral? You are gonna die, salty. It's okay; so am I. All I ask is that you bury me in a gray sweat suit with “Hello Friend” written on the chest.

Motivation: Traffic. Beach balls. Anger.

No.

For weeks we’ve been seeing billboards around Rhode Island touting a Get Motivated! Business Seminar, a smorgasbord of whoop-de-doo motivational speakers that’s coming to  town to get everybody fired up about something or other. Even though there are big names (Colin Powell, Rudy Giuliani) and a couple of “excuse me, what?” names (Terry Bradshaw, Bill Cosby) involved, the billboards make it seem gimmicky and awful. Different billboards have one person’s picture bigger than the others, implying that they’re the headliner, even though I don’t think there is one. I guess some people will only show up if Lou Holtz’ picture is bigger than, say, Rick Belluzzo’s. From what I gather, it’s kind of like a religious revival without the religion, or a rock concert without music. There’ll still be expensive food, though.

Anyway, apparently this thing is a hot ($2) ticket, because today the Providence Emergency Management Agency warned everybody that on Monday morning, when the thing starts, a lot of people are going to get motivated! to create a “tsunami of cars” by trying get into – and park – downtown. That is, in addition to the people who get into and park downtown every damn day to go to work. They’re expecting a shitstorm of such magnitude that school will be delayed by two hours so school buses won’t have to navigate the traffic. RIPTA is offering attendees discounted round-trip bus fares, so that's... well, that's happening.

And so, to recap: first thing Monday morning, approximately 12,000 people will make their way to the Dunkin Donuts Center in downtown Providence, where there are about 12,000 existing parking spots. If no one already lived or worked here, that would work out splendidly. But instead, Get Motivated! seems to have left the logistics of this thing (other than the provision of lots of beach balls) to fate, so I guess it’s everyone for themselves.

Admittedly, I’m kind of safe in this whole thing. I park downtown, but in a private lot in front of my office building, and I pay my employer every month for the privilege. It follows, then, that I will get motivated! to slash some tires and key some obscenities on car doors if I find no available spots and an excess of unfamiliar cars in the lot on Monday morning. Then again, I find that I’m getting motivated! to just take a sick day and bounce a beach ball against my living room wall by myself. 

Smartypants Town

As I have mentioned before, I work in an area of downtown Providence known as the Jewelry District, so named because back in the day, when a lot of jewelry was made and assembled in Providence, it was done around here. As far as I know, very little jewelry-related business occurs here now, and with the exception of a few bright spots (the Providence Animal RescueLeague, the Children’s Museum, Rue Bis), it’s kind of a dump. Not only is it next to impossible for the uninitiated to navigate, but most of its streets look like this:

and this:

and then, of course, some RISD kid breaks loose and does something pretentiously pointless like this:

Anyway. A while back, Brown University bought up a bunch of the old jewelry factories and announced that these few blocks would no longer be called the Jewelry District. With the big, shiny new medical school building it just finished, as well as all the biotech companies that are supposedly going move in because of said big, shiny new medical school building, thisneighborhood will soon shed its workaday past and be known as the Knowledge District.

Excuse me. First of all, let me just stress that I am all for the revitalization of this neighborhood. I for one would welcome streets that don’t make me feel like I’m driving on the moon without the benefit of lessened gravity. I dream of the day that the buildings around the one where I work don’t turn into underground clubs at night, leaving broken bottles, soiled condoms, and worse (yes, it gets worse) to greet us in the parking lot every morning. That would be delightful. But “Knowledge District?” Just like “Jewelry District” is a descriptive name, in that it implies that this district is where some or most of the jewelry-related business in town is (or was) conducted, “Knowledge District” implies that every other district is knowledge-free. And while Providence does have its share of dumbasses, they move about and settle freely, and rest assured that many do now – and will soon – populate the Knowledge District.

“Knowledge District.” It just reeks of… marketing consultant. Sometime, somewhere, a group of highly-paid contract marketers sat around a conference table late into the afternoon, brainstorming ways to reinvigorate the brand of a shitty neighborhood. Why not Brainsburg? Or Entitleton? Or Smarterthanyoufordshire?

Which brings me to another annoying descriptor I hear a lot around here: “brain drain.” Most people who use the term politely refer to it as the tendency for “college students” to leave Rhode Island  as soon as they graduate, but what they mean is that Brown Students leave. Because, really, is anyone mourning the Johnson & Wales kids who go back to New Jersey? Or the RISD kids who go home to stencil "th+ink" on their own town's vacant buildings? Most of the kids at URI, Providence College, and Rhode Island College are from here anyway. But heaven forefend the shining stars that are Brown students go back to their state or country of origin, because then all you’re left with are us slack-jawed yokels, elbow-deep in chowder and Pauly D haircuts. So thanks for that.

Heeding the signs.

While grocery shopping at Dave's this weekend, I saw this:

My favorite thing about this sign is the fact that it implies that at one point, escarole was for Italians only. The rest of us, making do as best we could with kale and arugula, could only press our sad noses up against the glass and watch them chop this unremarkable leafy green into their chicken soup while they twirled pizza dough, drank Chianti, waxed their moustaches and exclaimed “Madonna,” only it sounded like “Marone.” Sure, if you really wanted it you could grow it, but you risked having Italians come into your garden at night and wrecking up the place, and writing “Escarole  not-a for you!” in marinara sauce on the side of your house. But who liberated us? Who brought escarole out of the Italian darkness to where it truly belongs, crammed into the top produce row at Dave’s market, right between the curly endive and the lemon thyme, where no one, Italian or not, will notice it? Who on earth do we thank?

In other news, this was attached to the gas can I bought at the Shell near exit 10 off 295 in Cumberland this weekend:

What this tells me is that there are people who start fires with gasoline.

Ahem.

People. Who start FIRES. With GASOLINE.

ON PURPOSE.

And not just one or two. There are enough people who make the conscious decision to start fires with gasoline to warrant a point-of-purchase PSA campaign on gas cans that’s meant to say, “Hey. Hey there. Hi. You know that stuff you’re probably going to put in this shiny new gas can? Don’t use it to start a fire, okay? It’s wicked dangerous.”

I actually saw a person start a fire with gasoline once. It was my landlord when I was living in Lake Forest, Illinois, one of the few places where burning leaves in autumn was still legal. We spent the afternoon raking leaves into a gigantic pile, and when we were all finished, my landlord poured a gallon of gasoline over the whole thing. The resulting fireball shot so high into the sky that neighbors for three miles in every direction called 911 and sent about six engines to our house. My landlord, who was a true idiot, got a scolding from the firemen and was duly embarrassed. What I took away from that experience, aside from the sheer astonishment of seeing what I saw, was that it was the dumbest thing I had ever seen anyone do, before or since. And I’ve lived in New Jersey.

Honestly. Unless you are an active arsonist, when is the need for fire so urgent that, say, lighter fluid  -- or the naturally present oxygen in the air -- just won’t cut it? Gasoline is so flammable that oily rags and nail polish remover are ashamed to call themselves fire hazards if gas is within earshot.

I suppose it shouldn’t be so surprising. After all, we live in a world where people set off fireworks indoors and keep incredibly dangerous animals as pets that ultimately kill them.

No wonder we’re the dominant species on the planet! Go humans!

Thursdays of Begrudging Respect: a follow-up.

Hey, remember when this happened? Some got-dang fool in Tiverton got all ignorant in the comments section of an online story about a kid starting a gay-straight alliance club at her high school, and some feathers were ruffled, including mine. Especially because this knucklehead is an elected official, and the kind of elected official who has nothing better to do than troll local news sites and make stupid comments to somehow bolster his self-distinguished "straight shooter" cred.

Well, yesterday his fellow Rhode Island Republicans made their caucus a No-Dan-Gordon club. It seems his hobby of being a blowhard online got him the boot, but not for his comments about the Tiverton GSA. Nope, it was the apparent bashing of fellow Rhode Island Republicans in similar forums, the details of which aren't being offered by the ones doing the ousting. (I spent exactly five minutes looking for something he said that may have been deemed derogatory to his party, and I didn't find anything, so I gave up. Already I long to get those five minutes back.) And so, in a state with only a handful of Republicans holding elected office, where they can use as many warm bodies as they possibly can, this guy got the ax. But you know who's still in their good graces? This guy! This guy got pulled over in Connecticut with marijuana in his car and cocaine in his system, and claimed the East Haven police were unduly hard on him after they found out he was a Rhode Island lawmaker. Because, you know, what a bullseye to have on your forehead, right? Everyone knows that local police forces in Connecticut have had it out for Rhode Island State Assembly members for, like, forever. It's like the Hatfields and the McCoys, people.

And so, to recap, to keep your membership in the Rhode Island Republican caucus, you may 1) publicly disparage teenagers trying to encourage tolerance and understanding in their community; and 2) get caught driving under the influence of illegal drugs and have the enormous balls to claim to be the victim of some sort of loony imaginary discrimination. You may not, however, hurt your colleagues' feelings in the comments section of any website.

Just so we're clear.